


Destroy Everything You Touch

by SeaOfBones



Series: Dimitri/f!Byleth Oneshots [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Healing, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, but she is a bit oblivious and hard to read, byleth also has a lot of feelings, dimitri has a lot of feelings but really wishes he didn't, dimitri is very guilty about everything, much hurt/a little comfort, oh no you got wet in the rain better take everything off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaOfBones/pseuds/SeaOfBones
Summary: Byleth cleans Dimitri's wounds from the Battle of Gronder after his bandages are soaked in the rain. Dimitri realises he still has feelings for her, and is disgusted at himself for wanting something he doesn't deserve.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Dimitri/f!Byleth Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534364
Comments: 20
Kudos: 291





	Destroy Everything You Touch

Byleth's hands were so warm, and Dimitri wondered if they always had been. Her thumb pressed firmly against his palm as she led him through the darkness, out of the rain and into her room. His rain-drenched cloak dripped water on to her floor, but she didn't seem to care. She guided him, gently but firmly, to sit on her bed, the frame creaking beneath the weight of his armour.

He wanted to shield his face, but he didn't want to take his hand from hers.

“I'm sorry,” was all Dimitri could think to say, shivering through his sodden clothes.

“I know,” Byleth replied.

Dimitri was uncomfortable on the bed. He had lived as a beast for so long that he no longer knew how to exist as a human, all of their possessions seeming so small, so delicate. For the five years since he had escaped from Fhirdiad he had drifted, only truly resting when he was wounded. When he'd drag his festering body into the woods; into animal pens and barns abandoned by farmers fleeing the Imperial army. Never more than half-asleep, always gripping his weapon and prepared to be woken by ambush.

It was why he'd lingered at Garreg Mach after slaughtering the Imperial soldiers. A dagger strike from half-cruel fate, forcing him to keep the appointment with his classmates he hadn't realised was due, to disappoint them with what he'd become. He'd been torn between anguish and relief when he saw Byleth. Thought at first that he'd died, and that a demon with her face had come to drag him to hell. At second, he'd thought her a spectre trapped in the place where he'd watched her die – expected her revulsion at their reunion even as he'd hoped that perhaps, of all his ghosts, she might be the one who could guide him.

But she was real, and she was here. She was here, and she had... stayed by his side, even as he'd tried to drive her away. She turned his broad knuckles with her firm grip, and he knew that she was too strong for him to break with clumsy ease.

“You’re shivering,” she said. She lifted her steady eyes to meet his. “Please let me find you something dry to wear.”

Dimitri stared, the words caught in his throat. He did not deserve her pity, nor her care. He had not yet earned it.

“If not for me, then for Dedue,” she said, pressing her mouth into a grim attempt at a smile. “I promised him that I’d look out for you. Think of how disappointed he'd be if you caught a cold.”

Dimitri remembered, with a surprisingly painful sharpness, how he'd felt the first time she'd really smiled at him. He’d already spent a lot of time with her, showing her around Garreg Mach after she’d chosen to teach their class, and he'd taken her for dinner to ask her more about her mercenary days. He remembered the tightness in his chest, the way he'd stammered out his next few words and then quickly excused himself, embarrassed, pretending he was going to get more cutlery.

So much of the past nine years had faded into a blur, his bright months at the Officers Academy scrambling into everything else. It had been a long time since one of the memories that intruded upon his thoughts had been a pleasant one.

He tried to smile, like he might have five years ago. “You’re right. I… wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

And he didn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint any of them. He couldn’t take back the disgust in any of their eyes when they first saw him again, how far he’d fallen from human. Byleth, Dedue, Gustave, Rodrigue. Dimitri had caused them nothing but pain and misery. He could not take back anything he’d done, but this was a problem he couldn’t remedy with a blade.

If he could not atone, he would at least harm them no further through needless worry. His hands moved to the fastenings of his cloak, cold-numbed fingers grabbing clumsily at the stiff clasps through his thick gauntlets.

“Let me help you,” Byleth said quietly.

Dimitri lowered his hands, and allowed himself to watch her face. A slight frown, her mouth flat with concentration. Byleth’s deft fingers unbuckled the clasps with ease. Slowly, she dragged the sodden furs and trailing cape from his back, a weight heavy as a corpse lifting from his shoulders.

“Your armour,” she said. He nodded. She tucked her damp, pale hair behind her ears, and took his hand again. Dimitri breathed in sharply as her fingers traced his forearm, slipping under the metal plates of his gauntlet to pry the damp leather straps away from his gloves.

It had been a long time since someone had been gentle with him. No, that wasn’t true – even as he stormed and growled and demanded blood, Byleth been kinder to him than he had deserved these past few months. It had been a long time since he’d let himself accept such kindness, was closer to the truth.

Byleth had turned to him, face soft with concern at his pained hiss. “Is it your wound, Dimitri?” she asked.

Dimitri turned away, feeling his face grow hot. How disgusting he was, to take joy from her closeness after all the ripping and tearing the hands she was touching had done. “It’s… the cold,” he lied. Badly, as always. But Byleth didn’t ask questions. She peeled his damp gloves and gauntlets from his hands and moved to the fastenings on his breastplate, lifting a knee on to the bed to get a better grip.

He had spent so long listening only to his guilt, his anger, his fear, and pushing all other emotions aside. Letting the dead drag on his worst impulses. He wanted to feel something else. But as he felt Byleth’s warmth, her chest pressing against his as she worked quietly, he felt the bile rise at the back of his throat.

That tightness in his chest, the one he’d known so well. At the academy, when he’d fooled himself into letting himself be happy. Sylvain and Ingrid teasing him for how he looked at their Professor with adoration, hung on her every word, always found some excuse to visit her.

He could feel it again. As if for five years his heart had taken one long pause between beats. Dimitri pressed his eyes tightly shut and tried not to think about the firm hands against his neck, the muscular leg pressed against his thigh, the faint smell of pine needles and weapon oil.

Byleth pried off the breastplate, and Dimitri grunted in pain. Hot blood began to ooze from the gash in his side, the one that girl had given him at Gronder Field.

“Dimitri!” Byleth gasped.

He wished she didn’t sound so concerned for him. Without his armour binding it, the wound had begun to throb again. Dimitri pressed his hand tightly to his side. The red wetness was beginning to seep through his white undershirt.

“I’ll go to the infirmary,” Dimitri grunted.

He began to stand. Byleth pushed him back down on to the bed, long fingertips pressed against his chest. “I have bandages,” Byleth said calmly. “And a little hot water left. I can clean it and rebind it.”

Dimitri nodded stiffly, an involuntary groan escaping from his throat as he pressed into the wound. Byleth crossed to the basin and water-pump in the corner of the room.

“Can you lift your shirt?” Byleth asked matter-of-factly, tucking a cloth under her elbow and turning back towards him with the basin held in both hands.

Dimitri nodded again. He waited until she knelt by his side, and hissed as he took his hand away from the wound. He peeled the shirt away from his side, so damp with blood and rain that it had turned translucent. Byleth’s hands worked around his waist, easing the old bandages loose.

“Deep breaths for me, Dimitri,” she whispered. “In… out… in… out.”

Byleth swabbed the warm cloth against the wound, gently. It felt almost… pleasant, if he ignored the pain. He breathed in sharply, and exhaled deeply. In, out, in, out, as she’d asked. His chest rising and falling, as he tried to focus on anything but her.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. Dimitri looked to her. Head lowered, face flushed, as she focused on pressing the fresh bandage against his side. “This must be awkward for you. It’s been so long.”

“It’s—it’s fine,” Dimitri stammered.

Her eyes traced upwards, across his exposed abdomen. “You have a lot more scars,” she said quietly.

Dimitri grimaced. Byleth had treated Dimitri on the battlefield before. She had seen his body before, bandaged him in similar places. She had already seen the scars he bore from the Tragedy of Duscur. The thick, angrily puckered red lines that ran along his spine, the thinner, paler scratches that scored his arms and shoulders.

He wondered how many new scars his body had grown since she’d last seem him in such a vulnerable position, how many of them were marks of something monstrous.

“My apologies,” Dimitri said stiffly. “I know they’re not pleasant to look at.”

Byleth shook her head gently. “It’s not that. I’m used to scars. It’s…” She lowered her eyes, pausing in concentration as she knotted the bandage tightly against his side. “You were alone for so long, Dimitri. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“Don’t,” Dimitri growled reflexively. “Sorry,” he added immediately. He took another deep breath. He… he didn’t deserve her now. He didn’t deserve her five years ago. Even if he knew – he wished she was there too. He’d missed her, he’d mourned her, he’d longed for her. “You can’t change the past,” he murmured. “Isn’t that what you said?”

She nodded as she got to her feet. She walked back to the basin, drew a clean towel from her drawer, and returned to him. Sat down on the bed next to him, her body pressed against his bare torso, the towel folded in her lap.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” she said quietly.

“So am I,” Dimitri replied. “Admittedly, I don’t think I’d have made it to Enbarr in this state,” he added, a flat attempt at a joke.

Byleth smiled for him.

The idea of Byleth’s touch, Byleth’s affection were warm indeed, but the idea of him being a part of them – of letting Byleth be touched by his murderer’s hands, kissed with his animal mouth – revolted him.

“If you’d ridden for Enbarr, if I’d woken in the morning to find you gone…” Byleth murmured. She pulled the blanket from the bottom of her bed, and began to drape it around his shoulders. “I don’t want to lose you again, Dimitri.”

“I…” Dimitri started. It felt too close to a confession he hadn’t earned, to say he didn’t want to lose her either. He had so much that he had to make right. For her, for Faerghus, for the rest of their friends. So he said nothing, instead.

Byleth lifted her hands, and wiped his wet hair back from his forehead with her towel. He wanted to deserve her. To be worthy of her friendship, let alone his mess of feelings for her.

“Dimitri,” she said quietly. Her fingers moved in gentle circles, beginning to dry his hair. “You’re smiling.”

“Oh,” he replied, dully surprised. He hadn’t realised he’d let himself do that. “I suppose I must be.”

The chill rain drummed down outside, pattering off the wooden awning. Byleth wanted to look after him, and… guilty as he felt, Dimitri wanted her to.

Dimitri breathed deeply, in and out. Byleth’s warm hands traced the back of his head, and this time, Dimitri didn’t flinch away.


End file.
